SOUTH FRISCO JAZZ BAND
Vol. 3: "Jones Law Blues"
Stomp Off SOS 1103, 1985

PROGRAM:
Side A
1. LITTLE LAWRENCE (J. R. Morton) (a) - 3:04
2. PERDIDO STREET BLUES (L. Hardin) (b) - 2:51
3. BROWN SUGAR (H. Barris) (c) - 2:53
4. JONES LAW BLUES (B. Moten-C. Basie) (d) - 4:22
5. SHE'S CRYING FOR ME (S. Pecora) (e) - 2:04
6. LADY LOVE (N. Dominique) (f) - 4:28
19:42

Side B
1. WILLIE THE WEEPER (W. Melrose-M. Bloom-G. Rymal) (f) - 3:23
2. TITANIC MAN BLUES (M. Rainey) (f) -3:52
3. DREAMING THE HOURS AWAY (W. Dulmage-S. Ferguson)(f) - 3:07
4. SPANISH MAMA (E. Schoebel-B. Meyers) (f) - 2:50
5. SOUTHERN STOMPS (R. M. Jones) (g) - 2:45
6. WHEN ERASTUS PLAYS HIS OLD KAZOO (S. Coslow-S. Fain-L. Spier) (d) - 3:52
20:59

Music Arrangements: (a) Jim Dapogny; (b) Bob Helm and Robbie Rhodes; (c) Mike Baird; (d) South Frisco Jazz Band; (e) Robbie Rhodes; (f) Jim Snyder; (g) Charlie Sonnanstine and Robin Wetterau.

MUSICIANS:
Dan Comins - cornet
Leon Oakley - cornet
Mike Baird - clarinet, soprano sax and alto sax
Jim Snyder - trombone, vocal (B-4)
Robbie Rhodes piano
Bob Raggio - washboard and percussion, vocal (B-4)
Bob Rann - tuba
Vince Saunders - banjo and leader

GUEST:
Bob Helm - clarinet and alto sax on tracks A-2, A-6 and B-7 only.

NOTE:
On A-5 Robbie Rhodes, piano, with rhythm only.
On A-2 Mike Baird and Bob Helm play clarinets.
On A-6 and B-6 Mike Baird plays clarinet and soprano sax, and Bob Helm plays alto sax and clarinet.
On B-2 Mike Baird and Jim Snyder with rhythm only.

NOTES by Bob Helm
In the caricature cover, the judge says, "I've had enough of you guys bugging me with that 1929 Prohibition Jazz. Volstead and Jones bowed out with their act in '33 and I'm late for a three-martini luncheon. The charge is not ‘bootlegging' but ‘inciting-to-riot in the courtroom.' Now, go back to your cell and work up a love ballad to a bail bond broker! Court dismissed!"
Protests about prohibition found many channels; songs, satire and comedy were perhaps as effective as any. Volstead's Act of '19 and Jones's Amendment of '29 were devastating to the entertainment world. While I hadn't met Bennie Moten or Bill Basie until 1935, I hardly think that the album title song was inspired and conceived as an accolade to V and J's efforts. The minor mode introduction, interlude and ending establish a somber, ominous mood, conjuring up images; lock-step-chant, lament-wail. The (middle) major strains: a celebration of once happier times, perhaps a hint of future promise. All in all. not "For he's a jolly good fellow."
To have been invited to do some notes with pen and horns is truly my pleasure and privilege. There haven't been many times since the Yerba Buena days that I've had occasion to play again with an organized part-playing group of the same persuasion, ilk, and stature. For openers, I'd like to quote some of my colleagues and columnists, thereby avoiding some reiterations.
Lu Watters: "In full stride, the two-cornet jazz bands create a hard-to-describe ensemble sound that is wild and busy and often mischievous. It is a sound that gives everyone a festive feeling of excitement; listeners, dancers, and even the musicians who are creating the sound, all come under its spell. Vince Saunders's South Frisco Jazz Band deserves high credits for their performance on this recording (Merry Makers–113). They bring to life all the things I was trying to explain in this poor man's thesis."
Turk Murphy: "I have always found it very moving to hear a good band operate with four horns in the manner of King Oliver's Creole Jazz Band. Few people realize the thought and effort that goes into the making of this kind of sound. The horns must realize there are lines to follow and of course there are limitations as to register and complexity of pattern. The cohesion and compatibility of thought displayed by the South Frisco Jazz Band are absolutely essential in using this instrumentation (Stomp Off 1027)."
Philip Elwood (San Francisco Examiner and KPFA): "There is a spirit in this band that few comparable groups have achieved. This isn't revivalist music—it is perpetuative music. And, how nice" (Stomp Off l035).
As I reflect on the charges leveled at the Yerba Buena Jazz Band in 1939, I realize that times haven't changed very much except that today the sounds of King Oliver's Creole Jazz Band, Louis's Hot Five and Seven, Jelly's Hot Peppers among others are not quite so alien to swing-trend oriented ears.
I should mention that the Yerba Buena Jazz Band was composed of professionals whose only income came from music. Everyone in the band had had their fill of most of the swing charts that didn't hold up to several nightly performances six or seven days a week. And that partly accounts for how the YBJB came to exist at the Big Bear Tavern.
One night at Lu's victorian house on Steiner Street in San Francisco, he had been honoring record requests by musicians of various persuasions in his music sanctuary. The controversial choices were becoming a little too irritating, I guess, so Lu played an unanounced 78 that not only cleared the air, it just about cleared the house. The record was "Black Rag" by Celestin's Original Tuxedo Orchestra. (I believe that this act changed the course of musical affiliations in AFM Local #6 to this day.) I might add that King Oliver's "Snake Rag" was also a "winner." In those dark ages, all of the classic jazz bands were suspect, that is, if any of the contemporary jazz musicians had heard of them. Johnny Dodds's clarinet playing was classified somewhere in the Ted Lewis, Boyd Senter, Wilton Crawley repertoire of animal emissions. About the only interest in ragtime was generated by a swing-band recording of "Maple Leaf Rag."
Most musicians were fearful of bucking the trend-hype: "Every day in every way jazz is becoming more modern." That attitude hasn't changed to this day. It just accelerated as it became more of a make-up, costumed and choreographed performance and less of an audio experience. Oops! Here comes that android judge! I'd better back off.
Outside of members of the San Francisco Hot Jazz Society, the Yerba Buena Jazz Band's early audiences were mostly unfamiliar with the book and the titles of the tunes. It is not generally known that the YBJB played programmed music; flyers were passed out at the door—they listed five or six sets of tune titles and composers. The flyers concept was carried across the bay to Hambone Kelly's in El Cerrito, where they were replaced by a 50-foot bar back wall with most of the band's repertoire printed on it. Many people who came to the club used the wall for a request preference and said that it was a great help in remembering an obscure number that had captured their fancy.
For all the confinements of programming (no requests), there are some pluses for this time honored practice: Both the audience and the band have time to prepare, the audience has a memento and reference, and the band can put in new numbers and avoid repeating previous ones. Many of the great ragtime compositions had been consigned to the archives, the attic or the old parlor piano bench for a generation. Wally Rose's performances and a program guide were invaluable in reviving interest in this classic American music form.
After the YBJB began to be perceived as not another group of sight-reading, dixie-dilettante-copiers and eccentric swing music rejectors, its image attracted another segment of assessors: the trend-handicappers. This science doesn't require any great feeling for music but demands an eagle eye, a computerlike brain, quick reflexes and an audience response meter.
I am reminded of a conversation with an enlightened producer who approached the band with a recording contract. The question was asked, "Why do you want this band to record for your label, as you don't present this kind of jazz?" The answer, delivered with an engaging smile, was, "No, I don't! But your record sales are similar to those of classic baroque music: slow, steady, and continued. Can you do one hundred eighty tracks? Early jazz helps pay for my progressive speculations." That statement from '49er days certainly created some mixed emotions.
Most forms of music that achieved any degree of popularity had definitive names at their inceptions. With exposure, these labels have all suffered from creeping ambiguity. I wonder how long baroque-jazz as a description would hold up? Put it on the meter for a few centuries, give it time to shed its unrelated appendages and, hopefully, it would develop into an unassailable term for the idiom.
Until that day, classic jazz will have to do, and the South Frisco Jazz Band is certainly the epitome of examples of how the ensemble parts are assembled. There are not great numbers of bands using this classic combo of instrumentation that can perform without exposing some limitations. Out of the SFJB's enthusiastic and inventive parts emerges that ensemble sound that a couple of old friends spoke of earlier.
I won't attempt any further comment, as I have found that listeners listen and hearers hear, but not necessarily for, or to, the same sounds. And I don't wish to spoil the listener's fun by interjecting any subliminal rhetoric.
I would like to add a little background to Lilian Hardin Armstrong's "Perdido Street Blues." Lil, as a young lady just out of the Chicago Conservatory of Music, joined the King Oliver Creole Jazz Band in 1923. Her formal training enabled her to notate, assemble and arrange some of the wealth of material that were passed on by ear. Her "Perdido Street Blues" is one of several compositions that shows her New Orleans background. The rhythmic chant figure under the clarinets' two choruses fits the description of a West African ring-shout shuffle dance. Called the bamboula after the huge drum, it was described by historians Latrobe in 1819 and Cables in 1886. The crowd assembled in congo/circus square, the drummer with his beef shank mallets shouted, "Dansez bamboula, bam-bou-lam," and the chant bam-bou-lam was taken up. At the same time this was accompanied by the ring of dancers.

The foot movement suggests shuffling left - right - stamp, left - right - stamp (bam) (bou) (lam) (bam) (bou) (lam), and leaving the fourth beat in the bar open for an anticipated stamp: [music notation here]. With this background, the featured solo voice improvised until the spot was relinquished to the next soloist.
In the SFJB's version, the clarinets play a duet based on Johnny Dodds's part on the original New Orleans Wanderers recording. All other solos are innovative including Robbie's variation on Lil's chorus.
Bob Helm
February 27, 1985

Stomp Off is proud to have Bob Helm's participation in one of our records as musician, liner writer and finally as "judge." Bob Helm is one of the great players of traditional jazz beginning more than forty-five years ago with the Lu Watters Yerba Buena Jazz Band, whose impact on fermenting interest in earlier jazz styles is immeasurable. Bob subsequently played for many years with the Turk Murphy Jazz Band, and his distinctive clarinet styling graces many of our jazz record collections. His love of jazz is attested to by anyone who has attended late hour sessions at jazz festivals where he was participating. Our thanks to one of the great men of jazz!

CREDITS:
Recording Dates - November 19 and November 20, 1984
Recording Location - Bay Records, Alameda, Ca.
Recording Engineer - Mike Cogan
Technical Production and Mixing - Leon Oakley and Mike Cogan
Mastering - George Horn, Fantasy Studios, Berkeley, Ca.
Production Supervisor - Mike Cogan, Bay Records, Alameda, Ca.
Photographs - Vince Saunders and Bob Hax (of Bob Helm)
Front Cover Design and Art - .Tom Bertino
Producer - Bob Erdos
Stomp Off Records - 549 Fairview Terrace, York, Pa. 17403

plus-circle Add Review

comment

Reviews